


Exodus

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Pre-White House (West Wing), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	Exodus

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

I should've known that Josh wouldn't be in my bed in the morning. I'd felt his hand on my cheek at some point during the night, then the feeling of the mattress dipping and rising. My warm cheek suddenly became cool with the breeze of him leaving. I heard the door click, and I knew that by morning, things would change.

I manage to get on the campaign bus without running into Sam. I can't take his cheery disposition right now. Toby glances at me as I pass him. Sometimes it looks like he reads minds. I sit one row back from my normal spot, hoping that no one sees me this morning. My eyes are puffy and my nose is red. I've left my hair down in hopes of it covering my face just a bit.

"Look at what happened in Southern California in the early 80s," Sam says, climbing the three steps on the bus. He's already in political mode at 7 a.m.

"They had a winning football team?" Toby asks, taking his usual seat.

"Well, there was that." Sam sits across from Toby. "Firestone and General Motors closed their factories in South Gate and took thousands of jobs with them. The demographics shifted dramatically within the course of a decade."

"We're not talking about shifting demographics, Sam." Toby opens the newspaper. "We're talking about big businesses relocating for better rent and cheaper labor."

The bus fills up rapidly, and people are generally in good spirits. The driver puts the bus in gear, and I see Josh running toward us. I'm amused that he's late as usual, but my smile fades quickly as I think about last night.

Josh jogs on to the bus with his head down. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his shirt is only halfway buttoned.

"We almost left without you," Sam says.

"Sorry." Josh rushes to an empty seat behind Toby.

"Late night, Josh?" CJ grins at his outfit.

"Yeah." I can't see his face, but I'll bet he's not smiling.

***  
The people in the front of the bus are loud, but rarely do I hear Josh give his two cents. He usually paces in the small aisle, but he hasn't gotten up from his seat at all today. Most people probably attribute Josh's mood to his father's death, but I know that's not it. Josh seems to have made peace with that. I can't stand the thought of my contributing to his sadness.

"What do you think, Josh?" Toby asks.

I can see Josh's reflection in the window, and I know he's not paying attention to Toby and Sam's conversation.

"Josh?" 

He turns abruptly.

"Did you hear a word I've said?" Toby asks.

"Yeah, you're talking about Franklin Resources," Josh responds.

"That was five minutes ago," Sam chimes in. "We're discussing Franklin's parent company."

Josh sits up. "Right. The German insurance group."

Toby and Sam exchange glances. I wonder if Josh even notices.

*  
When we arrive in Los Angeles, everyone quickly files off the bus and into the J. Paul Getty Museum. We have a late lunch here, then we head to our hotel in Hollywood before a reception at Jeffrey Katzenberger's house.

"I don't think I've seen you this quiet since I've known you, Josh," the Governor says.

I've noticed that the Governor has been keeping an eye on Josh since Noah Lyman passed away. It's subtle, but the Governor is more perceptive than he'd like his staff to believe.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll get into it as the day goes on," Josh replies. 

It's the first time I've gotten a good look at Josh's face. I'm surprised to see that his eyes are as puffy as mine. I wonder if everyone thinks he's hungover.

Toby doesn't exit the bus with the rest of the staff. He waits until I make my way to the front. When I look at him, he barely smiles. 

He puts his arm out. "After you."

I walk ahead of him, and I feel his hand briefly touch my shoulder. It causes me to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Toby walks briskly to join the others as if nothing happened.

***  
While the rest of the staff is enjoying the food in the garden at the Getty, I slip away to return some phone calls and admire the art in the East Wing. We have the entire facility to ourselves for three hours, so talking on a cell phone indoors is fine, especially considering I'm the only one not in the garden.

Until CJ shows up.

"Donna, what are you doing up here?" She has a walking-tour brochure in her hand.

"CJ." I try to hide the Kleenex in my hand, but the mini-pack falls to the floor. I quickly bend to retrieve it.

"Is everything all right?" She puts her hand on my arm.

"Yes," I reply. "I have a runny nose." I sniffle for effect.

"The air is dry up here." CJ does a great job of pretending to believe me.

I walk a few steps toward a display. "I wanted to see the art. I've read about this museum, and it's every bit as magnificent as the guide books say."

CJ admires the paintings on the walls. "I try to visit whenever I'm in L.A."

I lower my head.

"I'm a little concerned about Josh," she says. "Have you spoken with him today?"

"No." I don't say anything more for fear that I'll break down.

"I'm sure he's still upset about his father. Maybe he should've stayed in Connecticut a little longer."

"Maybe," I respond.

CJ tilts her head. "You're sure you're ok?"

I smile. "Yeah. Thanks for asking."

"I'll see you downstairs. You have to try the mini spring rolls, but be careful with the sauces. They're spicy."

"I'll be down in a minute," I say.

I have to snap out of this. I don't think CJ knows about Josh and me, but if we're both this sullen, she's going to figure it out. Perhaps Josh and I should enroll in a few acting classes while we're here.

***  
There's just a little more bounce in Josh's step by the time we make it to The Standard Hotel. His sunglasses are permanently glued to his face, so I can't see his eyes. I wonder if he keeps them on so no one can read his expression.

I'm always one of the last people off the bus, and this time is no different. When I step off, Josh is waiting for me with our luggage.

"Can you check in for me?" he asks. He's looking at me, but I can't see his eyes because of those damn sunglasses.

"Yeah. Where will you be?" I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

"The Governor wants to meet in his suite. I'll call your cell to find out my room number."

"Ok."

He holds our bags in front of him. "You'll need these." For the first time all day, Josh grins. The sight of his dimples takes a huge weight off my shoulders.

"I'm your bellman too?" I ask, squinting into the sun.

"I'm not going to the Governor's suite with my bag. He'll tease me about staying in his room."

"We can't have that." I take the bags.

Our fingers touch, and we both stop. I look at him, but it's hard to read his expression.

"Thanks." He turns and jogs up the stairs.

I'm left with two heavy bags and an abnormal heart rate.

I make sure that our rooms do not connect. In fact, we're on completely different floors. I put Josh's luggage in his room, overlooking Sunset Boulevard. Then, I go to my room, overlooking the pool.

When Josh comes to my door an hour later to pick up his key, I don't open the door all the way.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." I stick his key out.

Josh smirks. "You're not letting me in?"

"Josh." 

We shouldn't be alone right now. Why put ourselves in that situation?

"Come on, Donna. I'm not gonna...you know." He leans against the door and motions his hand.

I unlatch the lock. "Only if you take off those sunglasses."

He walks in and stops in the middle of the room. Josh has this way of making himself the center of everything. 

"Why? It's fashionable to wear shades in L.A."

"You look stupid," I respond.

He eyes me with a lopsided grin, then he looks out the window. "Let me guess. You took the room with the better view?"

I shrug. "You have a view of the mountains."

"I have a view of the busy street." He smirks.

"You made me check in, so I get to pick my room." I've been standing, arms folded, in front of the bathroom since he got here.

Josh finally removes his sunglasses. His eyes aren't puffy any more, but they still say so much. His whole expression changes. He seems to have trouble looking me in the eye. When he does, I can't hold his gaze. I focus on the knot in Josh's tie instead. When I get my emotions in check, I meet his eyes, but Josh looks away and sighs.

I hold out his room key. "Here's your key. You're on the fourth floor."

"Donna," he says, clenching his jaw as he takes the key.

I look down.

"I know this isn't an easy subject, but --"

"Don't say it, Josh." I will absolutely break down if he talks about last night.

"If I don't say it, it's just going to hang in the air between us," He switches his weight to his left leg. "I can't work like this."

"This is about work?" I raise my eyebrows and take a step back.

I'm utterly shocked. We had sex last night. Josh's tears fell on my cheeks. We all but confessed our love for each other, and now he's talking about our work situation?

"Yeah." He puts his hands on his hips. "We're going to be in close quarters for the next week, and if we can't even manage to be in the same room together, we have a problem."

I try my hardest to snap out of the angry, frustrated fog I'm in, but I can't shake it. I turn around to compose myself. I refuse to let him see my emotions.

"Donna?"

"I can be in the same room with you." I hold my head as high as I can.

"Then why are you acting all..." He moves his hand back and forth.

"Forgive me if I'm still a little caught up in what happened, Josh." I walk to the other side of the room. "We said things..." 

Fortunately, the tears that have welled up in my eyes remain in check.

"I can't talk about last night." He lowers his head.

"So that's it? You can't talk about it, so we move on as if nothing happened?"

He shrugs and bites his lower lip.

"Fine, Josh. Take your key and get the hell out of my room." I point to the door.

"Donna," he whines.

"I said get out." My voice is shaky.

He steps closer to me. His head is tilted.

"Josh, don't come any closer." I step back and nearly knock over a lamp.

"Don't do this," he whispers. He looks at me, and his eyes are glassy. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

I try to stop my body from shaking. I want to get away from him, but there's nowhere to go.

Josh touches my cheek and closes his eyes. His thumb runs over my lips, but I can't move my mouth. He lets it linger there for a moment, then he turns and walks to the door. He puts his forehead against the white wood and his hand on the door knob. "I can't talk about it, Donna, because I don't have words..."

Josh doesn't finish his sentence. His knuckles turn white as he grips the door knob. He doesn't turn around. He opens the door and walks out, letting the door slam behind him.

I collapse on the bed with my head in my hands. I feel like I'm going to be sick, so I take slow, deep breaths until it passes. I have to be in the lobby in 30 minutes, but I don't know if I'm going to make it.

***  
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I realize that my eyes are still puffy, my cheeks are red and it looks like I haven't slept in days. My hair is starting to get wavy; a sure sign that it needs to be washed. My whole body feels dirty.

By the strength of a higher power, I change clothes, brush my hair and put on some lip gloss. I still look like hell, but I have to go to the fundraiser tonight. Normally, I'd be excited to meet celebrities and rub elbows with Hollywood producers and directors. But now, I just want to go home. 

I don't know where exactly home is. My belongings are still in my car in Manchester. The thought of not having a place to go back to frightens me. I have no idea what rent's like in Manchester. I know I can't live in a hotel room for the next few months. I'm not even sure if I can continue working on the campaign. As much as I believe in the Governor and adore the people who work for him, Josh is too much of a temptation. 

I rush downstairs, hoping that they didn’t leave without me. I'm five minutes late. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Toby walking down the hallway. He keeps his head lowered, but I see a small smile on his face.

"I thought you guys might've left without me," I say.

"Not a chance," he responds.

*  
I haven't seen Josh in the navy blue suit he's wearing. I haven't seen the crimson and gold tie either. He looks like a power broker or, you know, a savvy politician. He must've taken a quick shower because his hair appears to be damp. Earlier today, it looked like Josh hadn't shaved in days, but now any trace of a five o'clock shadow is gone.

I've met Donald and Keiffer Sutherland, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Edward Norton, but none of them compare to the way Josh looks tonight.

It's amazing how I go from one extreme to the next with Josh. One minute, I'm pissed; the next, I want him. I decide that a drink will help me stick with one emotion.

"Donna, I'd like you to meet Jason Bateman," Sam says as I approach the bar.

"Wow." I shake Jason's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

See, this is good. I'm now talking to a movie star and forgetting all about Josh, who is across the yard, leaning against a chair and gesticulating wildly. I can hear every other word out of his mouth, and apparently he's talking about the Governor's fall off a stage a couple of weeks ago.

"Donna?" Sam asks.

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear what Jason asked you?"

"No, I'm sorry." 

Josh caught my eye. He doesn't look pleased.

"I just asked where you were from," Jason says.

"Wisconsin."

"Ah."

Josh is walking toward us. I laugh, which causes Sam and Jason Bateman to look at each other funny. I have to show Josh that I'm unaffected by his presence, although there was nothing funny about our conversation.

"Hey, Sam." Josh nods his hello. "Donna." He looks me up and down.

"Josh, this is Jason Bateman." Sam is positively chipper.

"You guys look like you're having fun," Josh says, still glaring at me.

"Actually, we were just talking about Wisconsin," Sam responds.

"If you'll excuse me," I say. "I think CJ needs me."

The three men watch me walk away, but I can still hear their conversation.

"Is she always that...distracted?" Jason Bateman asks.

"You have no idea," Josh says. "There was this one time when..."

Oh no. If Josh thinks that he's going to sabotage any interactions I have with men, he has another thing coming. It was Jason Bateman, for god's sake! It wasn't like the man was picking up on me anyway. He's not even that famous. I'd recognize Mallory Keaton before I'd recognize him. Josh and I might have to have a discussion about this at some point. For now, I'm going to find CJ.

"Have you seen the inside of this house?" CJ asks, grabbing my wrist.

"No. I've been out here the whole time." I glance back at Josh. He's still talking to Sam and Jason. His hands are on his hips.

CJ drags me inside.

"Look at this entertainment center!" she says. "It sure beats the hell out of my 13 inch TV."

"No kidding!" I bend down to look at the electronic equipment. The room is like a mini-movie theater. "The only thing missing is the popcorn."

CJ looks like Vanna White when she steps back, revealing an old-fashioned popcorn popper.

"Unbelievable."

We walk into the next room, sipping our drinks. CJ might be a little buzzed.

"Have you seen Sylvester Stallone?" she asks.

"Yeah. He's shorter than I'd imagined."

"Aren't they all?" CJ shakes her head.

It isn't until we're back at the hotel that I have this wonderful realization: I haven't thought about Josh for over an hour. CJ and I were discussing all of the famous people at the party, exchanging stories and rumors about each one. Shadow Stevens hit on her, and we're pretty sure Richard Simmons hit on Sam.

I go to my room in a good mood, which is nice considering the mood swings I've had over the last 24 hours. 

***  
By the time we make it to Cincinnati, my plan has worked brilliantly. Although Josh tried entering my room once, I refused to let him in. 

"Donna, we have to discuss immigration," he pleaded.

"You have options, Josh." I continued folding my clothes and placing them in the dresser drawers.

"Talking about it in the morning is not an option." I hear a thump against the door.

"I didn't say it was," I respond.

"Just unlock the door, Donna."

"You can talk to me through the half-opened door or call my room," I say. "See? Options."

"It's work, for god's sake," he whines. "It's not like I'm coming in to, you know, lounge on your bed or watch TV."

"I wouldn't let you in to do either of those things." I grin.

"Fine," he huffs. "I'm calling you in 60 seconds."

As promised, my phone rings a minute later.

"There's a huge article in the Los Angeles Times about immigration," Josh says.

"That doesn't sound uncommon," I respond. "When we were in L.A., I saw several day laborers on the side of the road."

"How do you know they were day laborers?"

I adjust in bed. "They tried to hail all of the U-Hauls and Budget trucks that passed by."

"That makes them illegal immigrants?" It wouldn't surprise me if Josh is pacing.

"No. I'm just saying that an article in the L.A. Times about immigration isn't out of the ordinary."

"The title of the article is 'Moving Beyond the Usual Government Lies About Illegal Immigration.' Front page." I hear him fold the paper.

"These immigrants are getting mixed signals from us, Josh. No one's on the same page," I say.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I hear the springs of his bed.

I lie on my back. "You can't keep giving subsidies that drive people off their land, invite them to open U.S. bank accounts, then get pissed at them because they want to stay."

He's silent, so I continue. "We need to figure out how to import labor without the winks and the nods. Haven't you ever heard of someone hiring painters or movers without papers because they're cheap?"

"Yeah, but how do we prevent that? It's the government's responsibility to step in, but no one seems to know what to do." I hear him exhale. I think he's lying down now.

"It's not that complicated, really," I say.

"I can see it now," he says. "Donnatella Moss single-handedly solves immigration problems." By the sound of his voice, I know he's grinning.

"I'm not saying I can fix immigration, Josh, but I think handing out work permits and higher fines for employers who hire illegals would be a good start."

"How do you know all this?" he asks. I hear his arm fall heavily on the bed.

I shrug. "I told you: I read a lot."

I hear him shuffling around. "I need you to make a few calls about this tomorrow. I'll have the names for you by noon."

"Ok."

"We could've done this face-to-face, you know." I hear a click and assume he's just turned off the lamp.

"Maybe," I reply, turning off my lamp.

It feels sort of intimate, talking to Josh in bed with the lights off.

"Don't get me wrong, Donna, I enjoy talking to you over the phone, but this doesn't really work for me." His voice gets a little muffled. I imagine it's because it's pressed against the side of his face. His tone is a little lighter as well. It's almost that soft voice that I adore.

I sigh. "That's unfortunate, Josh."

We're silent for a moment. I can hear him breathing.

"Tomorrow," he whispers. There it is: The Voice.

"Good night," I say. I put my hand on my cheek. It's warm.

"Night," he says. 

I can almost see Josh smiling.

***  
Everyone is ready for this 14-day journey to end. We're staying in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for the night at a small bed & breakfast. The Governor, Leo and Mandy have already left on a plane back to Manchester. We have a short stop for a luncheon near New Haven tomorrow, but we'll be back in Manchester before dark.

Josh checks in to his own room this time, and I'm happy to report that it's on the second floor. My room is on the third floor of this Victorian house, and it's completely charming. It feels like a doll house. There are several quilts throughout the room and one hanging on the wall. There's a small table with a lace tablecloth on top. There's even a wood-burning fireplace in the corner. A cuckoo clock sits atop the mantle. Although the one window is small, the view is spectacular. There are sheep and cow pastures as far as the eye can see. There's also a thick patch of forest to the west.

For the first time during this entire trip, I dress casually. It feels so good to be in my old, broken-in jeans. I put on a white t-shirt with a light blue sweater over it. It's nice not wearing a suit or a skirt. I feel more relaxed in casual clothes.

When I get to the quaint hotel bar, I notice Toby sitting on a barstool. His suitcase is on the floor. I don't think he's even checked into his room yet. The oddest thing is that Toby is actually laughing with the bartender. I don't think I've ever heard him laugh. I wonder how many drinks he's had in the short time that we've been here.

"Donna!" he yells. He pulls out the stool next to him. "Pour my friend here a drink," he instructs the bartender.

Toby is not having a drink: he's doing shots.

"Actually, I'd like a glass of chardonnay, please."

"Nonsense, Donna. It's our last night. Live a little." Toby's smiling at me.

"How many of those have you had?"

He looks at nothing in particular, but I see his mind working. "Five. I think it five. But six is my lucky number."

"Maybe you should switch to something lighter," I say.

He swirls an empty shot glass on the counter. "Like what?"

"Water?" I try.

He laughs again.

"I had a bad experience with tequila once. I'm going to stick with wine." I nod to the bartender.

"Suit yourself," he says. "Where's Josh?"

I tense up. "Probably in his room. Where's Sam?"

"I don't care." He raises his eyebrows and grins.

I've never seen Toby drunk. I'm thinking of buying a disposable camera.

"Just in time," Toby says, swiveling around on his barstool.

"In time for what?" Josh approaches us. 

He's wearing those damn Levis. I try to keep my eyes focused on his eyes, but his dimples distract me. 

"We're shooting tequila," Toby announces.

"I just got here. You're shooting tequila," I say.

"Line 'em up!" Josh smiles. He hasn't taken his eyes off me yet.

Toby gives me an "I told you so" look.

"I'm having wine."

Josh sits next to me. He smells like cologne and looks like he just shaved. "There are cows out there."

"We're in the country, Josh," I say.

"But there are, like, a hundred cows just outside the door. And sheep," he adds.

"I think it's charming."

"I think it's freaky."

The bartender serves two shots, and Josh and Toby toast across me. "To the presidency," Toby says. 

"The presidency," Josh replies.

Watching him lick the salt off his hand makes me gulp. He licks his lips, then shoots the tequila. His face squinches up, then he sucks the lime. Josh eyes are still focused on mine. He slams the glass down.

"Come on, Donna. One shot." He wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

"I will do a shot ONLY if Toby stops." I glance at Toby.

He looks at the counter and smiles. "If you do two shots, I'll quit."

"And you'll switch to water?" I ask.

"I'll have a glass of water, then I'll drink something else."

"Toby," I plead.

"I'll drink a beer, Donna. Take it or leave it."

I look at Josh, who's smirking at me and shaking his leg. It brushes against my hip a few times.

"Fine," I say with a huff. "And, Josh, you can only have one more shot as well."

"Deal." He raises his hand to shake on it.

I grab his hand, and we shake with three pumps, then he brings our joined hands to his lap. I'm speechless for a few seconds. Josh's eyes are boring into me. I release his hand and call the bartender.

"His name's Frank," Toby tells me.

With the shots lined up in front of us, I lick my hand and pour a heap of salt between my thumb and forefinger. I watch Josh do the same. Toby is busy talking to the bartender about the severe markup on bottled water.

"Ready?" Josh asks.

I nod. I lick the salt off my hand, not taking my eyes off Josh. He sucks the salt off his hand more than he licks it. I watch him throw the gold liquid back, and I follow. Josh's expression doesn't change much, but the alcohol stings my throat. I close my eyes and purse my lips.

"Suck the lime," he says.

With my eyes still closed, I suck the lime for all it's worth. Surprisingly, it takes the sting away quite effectively.

"Good?" he asks, smirking.

"Not bad." I notice Josh hasn't eaten his lime. "You still have a lime."

He looks at it, then puts the meat in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. I have trouble shutting my mouth. He removes the lime and throws the rind into his empty shot glass.

Toby turns to us. "One down." He pushes the second shot toward me.

"Frank, can you give me a beer instead of wine?"

The bartender hands me the natural choice: a Corona. Josh and Toby each get one too.

"I want one more," Josh says, jutting his head toward my shot glass.

"Josh." I admonish him.

"We'll do something fun."

"While you two do something fun, I'm going to the restroom," Toby says.

I don't want to admit to myself that I'm glad Josh and I are alone, even if it's for five minutes.

"One more, Josh. That's it," I say.

"I promise."

Frank prepares one more shot of tequila. 

Just as I'm about to lick my hand, Josh catches my wrist. He puts it back on the bar and raises his hand to my mouth.

"We can't do this, Josh."

"Nobody's in here except Frank." He shrugs.

I look around. I am so tempted to do this, but I know it's wrong. Before I can decide, Josh pulls my hand to his mouth. He licks the salt from the gap between my thumb and forefinger and nibbles on my skin. His tongue massages the small spot.

I cross my legs and stare at his lips. "Josh?"

"Hmm?" He pulls away, then shoots the tequila. "Hold this with your teeth," he says, giving me a lime.

"Josh! I am not about to--"

He puts the lime in my mouth, and I try to stop him, but the rind falls perfectly between my teeth. I can't breathe. Josh sucks the lime, his lips touching mine as he pulls away the juice and pulp. I wouldn't classify it as a kiss; it's sexier.

All this takes less than two minutes, but it feels like an eternity.

"Your turn," Josh says, grinning.

"That was..." I don't know what it was, so I don't finish the sentence. My heart is pounding, and I have the strongest desire to do to Josh what he just did to me -- before Toby comes back.

Josh offers his hand to me, so I lick it before sprinkling salt in the gap. I hold it for a moment before bringing it back to my mouth. I duplicate what Josh did to me with his tongue and teeth. He moans. His hand slides up my leg. I grab it, and our fingers entwine.

He slides the tequila toward me. I drink the shot, then make a sour face. Josh smiles. He raises a lime to his lips, and I lean forward. His other hand snakes around my back, and he pulls me toward him. I suck the lime for a mere second before Josh lets it fall out of his mouth. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. I feel his tongue against mine, and I nearly collapse. The warmth of his mouth and the taste of citrus makes me high. I move my hand to his chest, and I feel his heart beating fast under his sweatshirt. I bunch it up, not wanting to let go.

Then I hear someone cough.

"Josh, can I have a word with you?"

I look up to find Toby standing in the doorway. Josh's eyes go wide, and I look at my feet. He kisses my forehead, then walks toward Toby.

Once again, my thoughts flee to Madison. Only this time, there's no deliberation.


End file.
